Voice
by nhsweetcherry
Summary: Gordon doing what he does best - getting himself into trouble, and Scott doing what he does best - getting Gordon back out of trouble! Whumpy one-shot.


_I do not own the Thunderbirds, and I am making no profit from this story._

 _A couple elements in this definitely seem more TAG, but with a little imagination, you could probably read it as TOS – whichever you prefer!_

The first thing Scott noticed as he woke up was Gordon's voice. It was going on and on, and it held a certain persuasive tone that Scott recognized, having been on the receiving end of Gordon's wheedling more times than he could count.

Scott frowned as he noticed that the endless chatter was seriously exacerbating a pounding headache he'd somehow acquired. He wanted to tell Gordon to quiet down, but found that he didn't have the energy to move, or even to speak – it was as if his whole body was still asleep except for his ears. He couldn't even muster the willpower to force his heavy eyelids open.

He wondered how he had ended up in such a state, but remembering took too much energy too.

Gordon's voice suddenly faltered slightly, and he let out a soft, barely-audible sigh before he started talking again.

That one little sound instantly brought every big brother nerve within Scott to full, jangling awareness – something was wrong. Gordon was in pain. He didn't know how he knew what Gordon's sigh meant – it must be something that his subconscious had picked up on over the years – but he was absolutely certain that he was right. And as adrenaline sharpened his awareness, he could hear other clues, too: a slight hitch in Gordon's breath, a hint of strain in his voice, and a kind of recklessness in the cadence of his words, as if he was speaking quickly to distract himself from something.

Despite the sense of urgency he felt, Scott still could not get his eyes open, and any attempt to move made his head spin nauseatingly. Irritated at his helpless state, he resigned himself to waiting for his body to catch up to his mind. It occurred to him that he still didn't know what was going on, and so he tried to focus on Gordon's words, hoping to pick up some clues.

"Hey, I keep telling you, man – you don't want a civilian!" Gordon was saying. "See, I'm trained to stay calm in a crisis, so you can know that I won't fall apart on you. And no, you _really_ don't want the girl – girls have claws. Uh, no offense, Miss."

"Okay," a harsh voice snarled. "How about your buddy there? He's not a civilian – and at least he's quiet!"

"Oh, no way – now you're not thinking at all! Dude, he's unconscious!"

Scott felt a warm, protective hand settle on his shoulder. If he could have bristled, he would have – he wasn't used to being defended by a younger brother.

Gordon continued, "Unconscious people weigh, like, _twice_ as much as conscious people. Believe me, I know! Do you really want to lug around all that deadweight? Besides, if my talking bothers you that much, you can just gag me or something."

"Yeah, that sounds like fun," another voice growled. "But unfortunately, I don't have time. C'mon, lady!"

"Wait, wait, I keep telling you to leave the civilians alone, and I have good reasons. See, look – she's wearing heels. Do you think you could run in those shoes? She'll just slow you down. I, on the other hand, am all ready to go wherever you want me to go. I've got stamina, too – I could walk all day if I had to."

"Yeah? With a bullet in your shoulder?"

A _bullet_? Alarm jolting through him, Scott willed his eyes to open or his limbs to move, but they refused to obey.

"Oh, that's nothing," Gordon said airily. "I've worked through worse injuries than that."

"Hey, Jonesy, the cops are gonna show up any time. Let's just grab the kid and get outta here!"

"All right, kid, I guess you get your way. Now, _c'mon_!"

The hand on Scott's shoulder squeezed slightly, then Gordon's presence disappeared from Scott's side.

"C'mon, _move_!"

There was a solid-sounding thump and a grunt of pain from Gordon, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps – then silence.

With an almighty effort, Scott finally managed to force his eyelids open and watched as the ceiling tiles overhead slowly came into focus.

He only realized that he wasn't alone in the room when someone softly asked, "Are they gone?"

"Yeah, I think so," a man replied. "Everyone all right?"

"Hey, I think this one's waking up," a female voice interjected. The young woman leaned over Scott. "Are you okay?"

Scott pushed the words out. "I'm fine. My…friend?" His mind was still moving like molasses – he'd almost said 'brother.' He slowly sat up, ignoring the way movement intensified the throbbing in the back of his skull. He could worry about his head later, after he found out what had happened to Gordon.

"Oh, he's really brave," the woman gushed. "Even though he was hurt, he wouldn't let the bank robbers take any of us as hostages."

Anger flashed briefly through Scott's mind before he made himself let it go – there was no sense in being annoyed with civilians for letting Gordon be the hero. Gordon was right: he was trained for situations like this, and they weren't.

Scott made his wobbly way up to his feet, but had to lean against the counter in order to stay upright. As he glanced around at the semi-circle of concerned faces, everything came back to him.

They'd been on a rescue in a town destroyed by an earthquake. He and Gordon had noticed multiple life signs in the bank, and had gone in to investigate. As they had stepped inside, they'd been surprised to notice a circle of people sitting on the floor, staring at them with fear in their eyes.

Then there had been the sharp report of a gun and a cry of pain from Gordon. As Scott had begun to whirl around, something had cracked against his head and everything had disappeared in an explosion of stars.

So Gordon had a bullet in his shoulder and was in the clutches of desperate bank robbers trying to make a getaway. Not good.

He raised his watch to his mouth. "Virgil, come in!"

"Scott! What's going on? I've been trying to raise you and Gordon for the past fifteen minutes! Are you okay?"

"Virg, we have a situation. Gordon and I walked in on a bank robbery. They shot Gordon and took him hostage. John, did you hear that?"

"Yeah, Scott, I heard. I'm working on tracking Gordon now…okay, I got him! Two streets over, and based on his speed, they must still be on foot!"

Scott pushed himself away from the counter and sped out the front door of the bank as fast as his dizziness would permit. "Virgil, I'll be approaching from the north. You come around from the south. We'll cut them off at that intersection."

"FAB," Virgil replied, his breath coming in huffs as he began to run.

A few minutes later, directed by John, they were closing in on Gordon's position. Desperately wishing he had some sort of weapon, Scott stepped out into the street in the path of the fleeing robbers.

As the men skidded to a halt, Scott caught a glimpse of movement a little ways behind them and knew it was Virgil. He kept his gaze fastened on the bank robbers, though – and on Gordon.

His brother looked terrible. Despite his bravado in the bank, Gordon was clearly nearing the limit of his stamina. White as a sheet, he didn't struggle as the taller of the two robbers grabbed him from behind, jabbing a gun into his ribs. Gordon's right arm hung limp at his side, blood dripping from the tips of his fingers. He cast Scott an apologetic glance, his eyes dark with pain.

Scott set his jaw. Gordon had defended him in the bank. Now it was time for things to go back to normal, with the older brothers defending the younger.

"Let him go," he growled, taking a step closer.

"I don't think so," the man snarled.

Virgil, creeping up behind the men, stepped on something that crunched underfoot.

The second robber whirled around. "Jonesy, there's two of them!" he gasped. "We gotta get outta here!" He crowded close behind Jonesy, clutching a large satchel that was bulging at the seams – their loot, apparently.

"Shut up, Corbett!" Jonesy snapped back. He addressed Scott. "Hey, man, keep out of our way, or your buddy here's gonna get another hole in him!"

They shuffled sideways, trying to keep an eye on both Scott and Virgil.

Scott hesitated, out of ideas. He cast a glance toward Virgil and saw that he didn't know what to do next either. He looked back toward Gordon – and watched his younger brother's face light up with his trademark mischievous smirk.

Catching Scott's eye, Gordon reached down and tapped the grapple pack clipped to his belt, gesturing to Corbett. Then he mimed jabbing his good elbow backward into Jonesy's ribs.

Scott blinked as he considered what Gordon apparently wanted him to do. He glanced at Virgil again, who shrugged. Scott shrugged too – Gordon's plan seemed to be their best option if they wanted to end the standoff quickly.

With a speed honed from years of practice, Scott whipped out his grapple pack and fired it in one smooth motion. Scott's aim was true, and the line wrapped around Corbett, sending the man tumbling to the ground with a yelp of terror.

At the same moment, Gordon planted his feet and jabbed his left elbow backward into Jonesy's midsection. With a convulsive gasp, Jonesy began to crumple. Gordon wrenched himself free and stumbled away.

Virgil and Scott reached Jonesy at the same instant. Virgil caught the man's wrist and pulled it high, scrambling to grab the gun. Scott, on the other hand, went straight for revenge, catching the robber on the point of the chin with a powerful uppercut.

Jonesy staggered backward, his eyes blank, and crumpled to the ground.

Suddenly there was a horde of policemen around them, pulling the robbers to their feet and handcuffing them. Virgil shoved the gun into the hands of an officer and hurried to Gordon's side.

Scott and Virgil skidded to a halt beside Gordon, who had dropped to his knees and was cradling his right arm. If anything, he was even paler than before, but his eyes still sparkled as he looked up at them.

"Nice," he said. "We make a good team." He wearily watched as Virgil cut the hole in his uniform bigger so he could inspect his shoulder. "Make sure you check Scott's head too – he was out cold for a good ten or fifteen minutes."

Virgil shot Scott an accusing glare. "Forgot to mention _that_ detail, huh?"

Scott shrugged. "It's nothing," he said, even as the pain suddenly returned with a vengeance, making him flinch involuntarily.

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Sure. And this is a paper cut," he retorted, gesturing to the bullet wound in Gordon's shoulder. "C'mon, you two. Let's get you both back to Two so I can fix you up."

They walked slowly. By the end of the trip, Scott's eyes were nearly closed and Virgil was supporting a good deal of Gordon's weight. Virgil deposited Gordon on the exam table and forced Scott into a chair before his legs could give out.

Scott sat back and watched in silence as Virgil set Gordon up with an IV and lots of bandages, strapping him in place for the ride home. Gordon was asleep before Virgil was even done.

Virgil turned to Scott with a penlight, checking his pupils. "Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you please remote pilot Thunderbird One home?"  
"Hey! I can fly!" Scott protested, then winced.

"Uh, no, you can't. John?"

"Yeah, no problem. Concussion?"

"Yep. He'll be fine after a few days' rest, though. Gordon will need a few weeks off, but it looks like he'll recover okay."

"Glad to hear it. All right, launching One now. I'll talk to you guys later!"

"FAB!"

Virgil turned back to Scott. "All right, there goes your ride, so you have no choice but to rest. You want to sit here with Gordon or with me in the cockpit?"

Scott looked at Gordon's pale face and sighed. "I'll stay here."

Virgil smirked. "I don't know why I even asked. All right, hang in there – we'll be home soon!" He clapped a hand on Scott's shoulder and headed up to the cockpit.

Scott waited until Virgil was out of hearing range, then pulled his chair right up next to Gordon's bed. He knew that with injured brothers aboard, Virgil would work to make the flight as smooth as possible, so he wasn't worried about his chair moving around.

He watched the steady rise and fall of Gordon's chest, and he was grateful – first, that Gordon had survived, and second, that he hadn't been injured any worse. On a different level, though, he was grateful that his little brother was the sort of person who would force his way into danger if it meant saving someone else's life, whether that person was a brother or a stranger.

He leaned forward, resting his arms and head on the edge of the mattress. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, he was being awakened by a familiar voice, for the second time that day.

"Hey, sleepyhead – we're home," Gordon told him, looking at him from only a few inches away, his brown eyes murky with weariness and pain, but still holding a hint of their usual twinkle.

Each word made Scott's head throb, but he smiled anyway, just glad to be hearing Gordon's voice at all. Still…it was a big brother's right to say, "Pipe down a little, will you?"

Gordon smirked at him and zipped his lips shut with his good hand.

They both knew the silence wouldn't last for long, but that was okay.


End file.
